


Vessels

by 221brothermine



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brothermine/pseuds/221brothermine
Summary: Amon never learned how to heal. Korra is one reluctant person who can show him how.
Relationships: Amon | Noatak/Korra, Amon/Korra (Avatar)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know Korra is technically 17 in Book 1 but I just wanted to age her up a little so she’s 18 here.

Korra knows his real name but can’t bring herself to say it. She’s angry. Doesn’t feel like he deserves the dignity of a water tribe name.

He doesn’t seem to mind. His real face is just as stoic as the mask. Pema is kind enough to feed him, but dinners aren’t what they used to be. Everyone is silent. They don’t know what to say.

Tarrlok Korra forgives. He’s awaiting trial, and he begged Tenzin’s family and Korra to let Amon heal from his injuries and stay away from the wrath of Republic City’s citizens at Air Temple Island, where no one would suspect he’d be. Korra had folded her hands and refused, but then Tarrlok begged. She never thought she’d see the councilman beg. She wanted to be smug about it, but she only felt bad for him. There was desperation in his eyes. And he was water tribe – more than she thought. More than he pretended to be. And both he and Amon were mum on the subject of what happened on their escape boat. They blamed the engine blew, but Korra could sense something else was going on.

Tarrlok had lost most of his hearing. And irony of ironies, Amon’s face has a scar now. A real one.

She still doesn’t pity him.

* * *

“If you’re going to be a guest on this island, you better pay your dues,” Pema says at the dinner table one day.

Everyone goes still. Korra raises an eyebrow and Tenzin clears his throat but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, like he is expecting this.

Pema folds her hands and glares straight at Amon.

“I—” Amon begins. “I don’t have any money.”

“You’re a waterbender aren’t you?”

“Don’t let him tell you otherwise,” Korra jabs. She sees Amon look at her from the corner of her eyes but doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Then you can help us filter clean water and wash clothes. Water the plants. Four pregnancies hasn’t been easy on my back. Think you can do your part, Noatak?”

“Yes. Of course.” He nods solemnly, then goes back to his food.

Korra still thinks it’s too much charity for him. He could work here for a lifetime and she still wouldn’t forgive him for what he’s done.

* * *

She watches him from her bedroom window. The careful, meditative way he wrings out water from the towels and rags. He’s a masterful waterbender, she’d give him that. Precise. Patient. More patient than she is.

He turns his head and it’s too late for her to turn away. She squares him with a glare, then leaves.

* * *

She tosses and turns in her sleep. She never had nightmares before Amon. Now, every other week or so, she’ll wake up in cold sweat over something to do with the city’s civil war. Mako and Bolin being crushed under a crumbling ceiling. Asami’s father electrocuting them all to death.

She doesn’t dream about Amon so much anymore. But she does dream of Noatak. The one that lives on the island. And when she wakes up, she’s warm and wet between her legs. Her cheeks burn. She’s alone in her room, but the shame envelops her, quickly followed by anger. He has seeped too far into her brain. Maybe this is an another bloodbending trick. She prays to the spirits that it’s not a vision.

* * *

Sometimes Korra has to put her Avatar duties above any personal grudges. If you asked her, it happened too often.

“Noatak might be a healer, right?” Mako asks Korra over lunch in the city one day. He pops a dumpling in his mouth. “Look, Korra, the hospitals are overflowing. They’re short on waterbenders. Asami’s been volunteering and asked if I could talk to you about coming in. Having another helping hand would –”

“That’s a crazy idea!” Korra slaps her hand against the table so hard the cutlery rattles. “Amon isn’t allowed to leave the island.”

“He could wear a disguise!” Bolin chimes in. “Obviously not a mask. But we could give him a fake mustache! Oh, or maybe shave his head!”

“I don’t trust him,” Korra says. “And even if I did, I don’t even know if he can heal.”

“Well, can you find out?” Mako asks. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Fine,” Korra mutters. She throws the piece of bread she was eating back in its bowl. She isn’t hungry anymore. “Just don’t expect much from him.”

* * *

He’s in his room when Korra arrives back at the island. She leans on the doorway and crosses her arms.

Without turning around, he says, “Avatar Korra. Is it lunch time already? Seems a little early—”

“I’m not here to escort you to lunch.”

At her tone, he stops folding his newly-washed clothes on the floor. He only has two sets – and one of them he doesn’t wear anymore. He cranes his head and stands to his full height, which Korra is always intimidated by, even though she knows he won’t try anything.

“How can I assist you, then?”

Korra pouts and refuses to meet his eyes, but an image of the rows of bloody beds flash throw her mind, and Asami’s worried expression. When Korra visited the hospital, Asami couldn’t even stop to talk to Korra, just shouted after her as she followed someone being carried on a gurney inside the operation room.

“Many of Republic City’s citizens are injured and dying, thanks to the war you started. The hospitals are understaffed and looking for healers. My friend Asami asked me to recruit as many waterbenders as possible. That includes you, I guess. Can you help?” She turns her gaze on him, finally, and is surprised by his calm expression. He’s never the angered, growling character she expected to see beneath the mask. When he turns to face her, the entirety of his new scar reveals itself.

He flexes one of his hands. “I’m sorry, Korra. I’ve...never healed before. My father considered healing to be an art reserved for the women of the tribe. He was traditional in that way.” His voice goes low. “And he filled our time with... other teachings.”

When he meets her eyes, Korra looks away. It still sends a chill down her spine, remembering the story Tarrlok detailed of their childhood.

“Dead end. Great!” she says. “See you at lunch, then.” She doesn’t turn to look, but she knows he watches her go.

* * *

Later in her room, she stares at her hands. Could she bloodbend? Would she be good at it? Or would its capabilities only be possible in a full moon? She pushes the thoughts away. She swings her legs over the bed and covers herself, even as the glow of the moon through the window taunts her.

* * *

The airbending kids keep her in shape.

She mostly has the hang of floating through the gates like a leaf, but every once in a while, a spinning gate smacks her. This time it gets her shoulder. She walks back into the house rubbing the sore spot and wincing. She wipes the sweat from her head with a towel as she sits on a bench to catch her breath.

“Korra.” His deep voice is unmistakable. His footsteps are almost inaudible as he approaches. He’s smooth like water.

Korra groans. She only acknowledges him with, “Amon.”

He pauses. She knows he goes by Noatak now, but she’s daring him to correct her. He doesn’t.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’d like to help your friend in the hospitals. I don’t know if I have the capabilities of a healer, but maybe you could help me unlock them.”

Korra stops nursing her should. “Oh. Uh...” She’s never taught anyone healing before. Or any bending at all. It’s all been about practicing the elements herself. And if she had to pick a student, he wouldn’t be her top choice.

“I know you haven’t forgiven me for what I’ve done. I don’t expect you to. But I’d like to learn and make amends. Healing is...” He flexes his hand, staring at it, just as Korra had at her own hands the other night. “...something I should’ve learned a long time ago.”

She considers him in his distracted trance. She studies the long angles of his face. She often forgets that he’s handsome, even with the scar. He has the features many find appealing in water tribe men. The blue eyes. A strong nose. High cheekbones.

Korra shakes her head. It’s a ridiculous train of thought. She needs to get it together. 

She can sense of sliver of the dark memories passing through his head. For the first time, she isn’t angry. “My teacher was Katara. The best there is. I can’t promise I’ll have her skill level but...I can try.”

He breaks out of his trance and looks at her with a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Thank you, Korra. It would be an honor.”

She stands and points a finger. “Don’t get too happy. If you step out of line even once, the deal’s over.”

“I won’t be crossing any lines with you, Avatar Korra.”

Korra realizes she’s standing closer than she meant to. He holds her gaze and she’s ashamed to be the first to have to break it. She remembers she had another dream about him last night. She could still feel the ghost of his fingers gripping her chin, her on her knees as he stood above her.

“Sure. Whatever,” she says. She clears her throat and shrugs. If he catches a whiff of her sudden embarrassment, he doesn’t show it.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” he continues. “You’ve humbled me.” He brings his hands together and bows. “Thank you.”

This time, she watches him go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I think I'll add a chapter or two. Wanna have some hurt before the uh, "comfort."
> 
> Thank you all for the kind feedback! Here to feed some Amorra needs in this dry spell. :)

First they have to figure out if Amon has any healing capabilities at all.

For their first session, Korra picks an empty room reserved for meditation toward the back of the house. The airbending kids are outside playing and Tenzin is busy working in Republic City. Pema suggested it for the quiet.

Korra spends some time trying to recollect Katara’s lessons on healing energy. She paces back and forth in the room she’s chosen for their training. Amon simply stands near a wall of the room with his hands folded behind his back, watching her.

“I’ve been healing for so long, I don’t have to think about it anymore. I know how to redirect the energy myself but – You just kind of… _do_ it.” She spreads her hands at the floor helplessly.

“Hmm.”

She sighs, putting her face in her hands. “Katara explained it better.”

“Perhaps a demonstration could help.”

Korra looks at him through her fingers.

“I’m still carrying a few bruises and cuts from the accident.”

Korra feels tempted to ask more about this “accident,” since both Amon and Tarrlok had been so vague about it, but she reminds herself this session isn’t for personal chit-chat.

“Okay. Sure. That’s not a half-bad idea. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.” She is reminded once again that she isn’t the best student and, as a result, not the best teacher, apparently. Even with healing, she was just desperate to get in on the action. She hadn’t caused any damage, but she’d gotten a few complaints of not having great bedside manner. Her healing had been described as “ripping off a band-aid.” At the time she had scoffed at the complaints, thinking they should’ve been grateful she healed them all. Katara had just laughed and suggested she be more gentle, which was synonymous with being patient.

Korra is still learning that.

They sit on a bench and Korra sighs, centering herself. Amon pulls back the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his upper arm. The bruise there is large. Splotches of purple and brown all the way down his bicep. “Ouch,” Korra winces.

“I’ve had worse, believe me,” Amon says. 

She scoots closer, bending water out of a nearby vase filled with water they purified from the Yue Bay.

She smooths the cool water over his arm. He glances at it when it begins to glow.

Korra lets out a slow breath, focusing on the rough areas where the bruising goes deep. Usually someone winces in pain if she’s touched a sensitive spot, or they sigh from relief, but Amon remains stoic as ever. He only lets out a small sigh once she pulls the water away and bends it back into the vase.

The bruising is still there, but the swelling has gone down some. Amon flexes his arm, examining her handiwork.

“Feel better?” She crosses her arms.

“Amazingly, yes. That’s the best this arm has felt this week.”

Korra tries not to let her eyes linger on the obvious strength of his arms. Bruised as his tanned skin is, he’s lean and strong. She knows he gets up early in the mornings, before dawn, to run laps and do exercises. She would be lying if she said she isn’t sometimes tempted to join him. He has moves up his sleeve that she doesn’t.

It makes her a little breathless.

Korra tries to describe what was going through her head. The intent of healing. How she has to mentally focus on feeling the injury underneath the skin. Being familiar with anatomy helped. Amon has no issues on that front – she discovers he has extensive knowledge of human anatomy. Then she remembers his chi blocking abilities, and bloodbending, and it ceases to be a surprise.

“Let’s take a break.” Korra jumps up and wipes her hands. She tries an overhead stretch before but immediately winces.

“ _Ouch._ ”

Her hand flies to her shoulder. Not only is she still sore from the first time she hit it, but she also managed to bruise the same shoulder on a spinning door this morning. Trying to be a leaf _sucked._

“May I?”

When she turns around, Amon is standing behind her, an arm hovering in the air near her shoulder.

Korra narrows her eyes.

“It seems like a simple enough injury,” he elaborates. “I can practice.”

“I’m not your training manikin,” Korra bites, turning her back away from him and balling her fists. He’s never touched her before – at least not with his bare hands. And what if someone sees? Not that it matters. They’re just practicing healing, right?

Amon withdraws his hand to its place behind his back. “I understand your mistrust.”

His expression is stoic again. Korra exhales through her nose. The last time he lay a hand on her, he took away her bending. He wasn’t going to touch her again. She folds her hands.

“You’ll practice on yourself first. That’s how all healers start.”

He hums in agreement. Or in passive acceptance. It’s strange, seeing him bend so easily to her will. She expected more fight from him.

“Good. See you in five. I’m getting a snack. I barely get by eating the vegetables on this island.” She trudges away. 

She can feel the phantom touch of his hand on her shoulder. As if he _had_ touched it. The thought of that doesn’t disturb her enough. Not nearly enough.

* * *

He has a rough start. More than once his blood-bending kicks in – he can’t differentiate it from the focus he needs to maintain for healing. It’s like learning to wink, he tells her.

She bursts out laughing. The metaphor is strange coming from his normally self-assured self.

“So there _is_ something you can’t do,” Korra says. She feels smug. And she’s smiling. It’s not becoming of a teacher. But Korra never had a taste for formality.

“Yes. Ever since I lost my mask, the weaknesses have become harder to hide.”

Woah. Korra’s smile drops. She didn’t expect him to be…honest. Something nudges her. Something from the spirit world. “Most people go through life without wearing a mask. At least – not a real one. You have to let people see you. The real you.”

When Amon meets her eyes, Korra wants to look away. His gaze is steady but intense. She swallows but holds it. She wants him to know she means it.

“You’re very wise, Avatar Korra. I am always underestimating you.”

A nervous laugh escapes her. He sounds so…serious. Do all men sound like that? Like once they reach thirty, their voices get grave and serious and they can’t crack a joke? She can’t picture Mako or Bolin being like that.

“Yeah, well – you know. Just basic Avatar wisdom. It’s not even my wisdom. I have hundreds of other Avatars living inside me.”

Korra is usually good at taking compliments. What is going on? Her cheeks are burning again. It is a good thing he’s focused on the bruise on his arm again and not on her face.

Korra takes a deep breath, pushing away thoughts of embarrassment or why she feels strangely excited by his attention. For all her complaining, Tenzin’s meditation training _does_ come in handy. She just didn’t expect to need it for this moment.

“Think of the muscle fibers and veins as threads you need to weave back together,” Korra advises. “Your intentions are important too. You’re trying to sow fabric back together. Make it whole again.”

“Yes, I’m trying,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice. There’s a furrow between his brows and she can see he’s beginning to sweat. “I’m using all my strength.”

“It’s not about strength. You’re just redirecting energy.”

He clenches his teeth. Despite her advice, he seems to apply even more force. It’s strange to see – it’s almost like he’s getting angry. She wasn’t the most patient learner, Tenzin could vouch for that, but she hadn’t struggled with healing this much. It took time and patience to heal a person.

* * *

“Careful, Noatak,” she warns. The name slips past her lips before she can think about it. Somehow his frustration is more concerning in this moment and she needs to get his attention.

“If it’s not about strength,” he growls, “then this is a pointless task.”

He rises to his feet, breaking the healing ritual completely. He stands there, chest heaving. Korra stares at him, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong?”

He clenches and unclenches the hand at his side. “I think we have our answer. Healing isn’t within my bending arsenal.”

He turns on his heel toward the exit. “Hey, wait! I didn’t say this was over yet.” Korra is right behind him as he pushes open the sliding door.

“I appreciate your efforts, Avatar, but I’ve exhausted all my efforts.”

“It’s the first lesson!” She spreads her hands, incredulous. “I can’t believe you give up this easy. We’ll just try again tomorrow!”

He keeps his back to her but turns his head halfway. She steps backwards when she sees the way he balls his fists by his sides. He wouldn’t attack her, would he?

“I know my limits," he says. "These lessons were a mistake. We’re done here.”

Korra wants to protest, but something in the low tone of his voice tells her not to. “Fine.”

She only speaks again when he is out of earshot, walking across the courtyard back to the main house.

“Guess I shouldn’t have expected anything more from _Amon_.”


End file.
